Ranger's React to Ruins of Gorlan
by RangerFanLisa
Summary: Rangers apprentice characters react to Ruins of Gorlan. Takes place after Lost Stories. Characters reacting are Will, Alyss, Halt, Lady Pauline, Crowley, Gilan, Horace, Jenny, George, Cassandra, Duncan, Arald, Lady Sandra, Sir Rodney, and Erak.
1. Prologue

_A/N Hey, I've been wanting to do this for a while, after reading the "Reading the books" done by Dorano1 and TheRanger'sDaughter. I've read both of these numerous times so I apologise if some of the parts of the first two books are very similar to theirs. I got the texts from_ ___as I wasn't wanting to type out the entire books, which I'd tried to do but was taking too long. I've noticed that some versions of the book are slightly different, so if there is a part of one of the books which is missing, feel free to message/review and I'll add it in. i have read the whole series including the Early Years series (although I haven't read them as many times as the rest so there may be some mistakes), so there will most likely be references to them, but I haven't read Brotherband yet. If you have an idea for a character's reaction let me know and I'll credit you in the chapter if I include it (P.S. Sorry if it's very bad at the start, i'm not too sure on how i should start it) (P.S.S. I'm horrible with grammar and spelling, I've proofread, but if I miss anything, just let me know and I'll change it, in addition I'm using a chromebook where the I's are often not automatically capitalized so if I miss any, just let me know.) Sorry for the long Author's Note, I won't usually add them._

 **Prologue**

Sat in Baron Arald's office in Castle Redmont, some of the most well known people in the Kingdom of Araluen had been gathered to read a series of books which had been left by an unknown visitor. Since there wasn't any immediate problems in the Kingdom to be dealt with at the moment, they had all agreed to read them. In addition, Oberjarl Erak was visiting from Skandia, so they had decided to invite him into the gathering. Sat around the table in a semicircle, in order, were George, Jenny, Gilan, Crowley, Pauline, Halt, Will, Alyss, Horace, Cassandra, Duncan, Sandra, Arald, Rodney and Erak. They all looked at the first book curiously, called _Ruins of Gorlan_. King Duncan was the first to speak, "Shall we start them?" he asked the group, and everyone else nodded in agreement. He looked towards George inquiringly, and requested "Would you mind starting? Then we could go around the table."

George looked at the King in surprise, unused to the King addressing him directly. "O-of course, Your Majesty."

"No need for formality, George. Just call me Duncan."

"V-Very well… Duncan." and with that, George began reading...

 **Prologue**

 **Morgarath,**

At the name, all the Araluens in the room froze, remembering the now-dead traitor, while Erak looked down at the table, guilt on his face (an expression not usually seen on a Skandian). At the same time, a sudden darkness fell down over the room.

 **the Lord of the Mountains of Rain and Night, former Baron of Gorlan in the Kingdom of Araluen, looked out over his bleak, rainswept domain and, for perhaps the thousandth time, cursed.**

"His fault!" Crowley interjected, with obvious venom and a deep scowl on his face. At the other side of Lady Pauline, Halt had a similar expression. Both of them remembered how Morgarath had attacked their outnumbered mentor and killed him while fleeing from Castle Gorlan during the first war.

 **This was all that was left to him now - a jumble of rugged granite cliffs, tumbled boulders and icy mountains. Of sheer gorges and steep narrow passes. Of gravel and rock, with never a tree or a sign of green to break the monotony.**

Gilan, noticing his old mentor's expression, tried to lighten the mood by adding "And now he doesn't even have that!" which gained a few grins from around the room.

 **Even though it had been fifteen years since he had been driven back into this forbidding realm that had become his prison, he could still remember the pleasant green glades and thickly forested hills of his former fief. The streams filled with fish and the fields rich with crops and game. Gorlan had been a beautiful, living place.**

"It wasn't like that the last time I was there" Will commented, gaining a few more grins and chuckles.

 **The Mountains of Rain and Night were dead and desolate. A platoon of Wargals**

Cassandra and Will exchanged a worried glance, while Horace put a reassuring arm around his wife's shoulders. Meanwhile Alyss reached out a hand to Will which Will grasped gratefully.

 **was drilling in the castle yard below him. Morgarath watched them for a few seconds, listening to the guttural, rhythmic chant that accompanied all their movements. They were stocky, misshapen beings, with features that were halfway human, but with a long, brutish muzzle and fangs like a bear or a large dog. Avoiding all contact with humans, the Wargals had lived and bred in these remote mountains since ancient times.**

Sir Rodney sighed, muttering under his breath "Why couldn't it have stayed that way?" and Baran Arold glanced at him, before nodding in agreement.

 **No one in living memory had ever set eyes upon one, but rumors and legends had persisted of a savage tribe of semi-intelligent beasts in the mountains.**

"I really wouldn't call them intelligent." Erak thought aloud, and most of the group agreed with.

 **Morgarath, planning a revolt against the Kingdom of Araluen, had left Gorlan Fief to seek them out. If such creatures existed, they would give him an edge in the war that was to come. It took him months, but he eventually found them. Aside from their wordless chant, Wargals had no spoken language, relying on a primitive form of thought awareness for communication. But their minds were simple and their intellects basic. As a result, they had been totally susceptible to domination by a superior intelligence and willpower.**

At the last few words, Halt started coughing. He may have been just clearing his throat, but it suspiciously sounded like "arrogant b-". Lady Pauline gave no indication that she had stopped him finishing that statement by kicking him in the calf. She gave him that look she always gave when he swore in front of his ex-apprentices.

 **Morgarath bent them to his will and they became the perfect army for him-ugly beyond nightmares, utterly pitiless and bound totally to his mental orders. Now, looking at them, he remembered the brightly dressed knights in glittering armor who used to compete in tourneys at Castle Gorlan, their silkgowned ladies cheering them on and applauding their skills.**

Horace scoffed and shook his head. Will glanced at him, and hiding a grin casually mentioned "Isn't that exactly what you thought being a knight would be like?" Horace looked at his friend suddenly, then at Cassandra when she dug his elbow into his ribs. She mock-glared at him, but seeing his wounded expression, she relented, letting a smile break through.

 **Mentally comparing them to these black-furred, misshapen creatures, he cursed again. The Wargals, attuned to his thoughts, sensed his disturbance and stirred uncomfortably, pausing in what they were doing.**

"So plan B could have been to annoy Morgarath enough to distract him from giving his mental orders." Gilan butted in.

 **Angrily, he directed them back to their drill and the chanting resumed. Morgarath moved away from the unglazed window, closer to the fire that seemed utterly incapable of dispelling the damp and chill from this gloomy castle.**

Halt frowned at that description, remembering his childhood at Dun Kilty Castle where winters were always drafty and damp.

 **Fifteen years, he thought to himself again. Fifteen years since he had rebelled against the newly crowned King Duncan, a youth in his twenties. He had planned it all carefully as the old king's sickness progressed, banking on the indecision and confusion that would follow his death to split the other barons and give Morgarath his opportunity to seize the throne.**

"You have to admit," Baron Arald sadly acknowledged, "it was a very clever plan."

 **Secretly, he had trained his army of Wargals, massing them up here in the mountains, ready for the moment to strike. Then, in the days of confusion and grief following the king's death, when the barons traveled to Castle Araluen for the funeral rites, leaving their armies leaderless, he had attacked, overrunning the southeastern quarter of the kingdom in a matter of days, routing the confused, leaderless forces that tried to oppose him. Duncan, young and inexperienced,**

Cassandra frowned at the description of her father.

 **could never have stood against him. The kingdom was his for the taking. The throne was his for the asking.**

"Not if I had anything to say to it." Crowley interjected.

 **Then Lord Northolt, the old king's supreme army commander, had rallied some of the younger barons into a loyal confederation, giving strength to Duncan's resolve and stiffening the wavering courage of the others.**

There was a heavy sigh that came from where King Duncan sat. "Lord Northolt was a good man." "He's desperately missed." Sir Rodney added.

 **The armies had met at Hackham Heath, close by the Slipsunder River, and the battle swayed in the balance for five hours, with attack and counterattack and massive loss of life. The Slipsunder was a shallow river, but its treacherous reaches of quicksand and soft mud had formed an impassable barrier, protecting Morgarath's right flank. But then one of those gray-cloaked meddlers**

"Hey!" Will and Gilan protested. "We're not meddlers!" Will added. "Actually," Gilan opposed with a grin, "We do meddle in stuff a lot."

 **known as Rangers led a force of heavy cavalry across a secret ford ten kilometers upstream. The armored horsemen appeared at the crucial moment of the battle and fell upon the rear of Morgarath's army.**

Everyone looked at Halt, who began to hide his face in the cowl of his cloak.

 **The Wargals, trained in the tumbled rocks of the mountains, had one weakness. They feared horses and could never stand against such a surprise cavalry attack. They broke, retreating to the narrow confines of Three Step Pass, and back to the Mountains of Rain and Night. Morgarath, his rebellion defeated, went with them. And here he had been exiled these fifteen years. Waiting, plotting, hating the men who had done this to him.**

"He could have just surrendered. It would a lot of lives and time." Rodney complained, remembering how many casualties Morgarath caused. Halt agreed, guiltily thinking about Daniel, Will's father, who had died saving his life.

 **Now, he thought, it was time for his revenge. His spies told him the kingdom had grown slack and complacent and his presence here was all but forgotten.**

"Us Rangers didn't grow slack!" Crowley said, slightly offended that his Ranger Corps had been underestimated.

 **The name Morgarath was a name of legend nowadays, a name mothers used to hush fractious children, threatening that if they did not behave, the black lord Morgarath would come for them.**

King Duncan frowned at the attitude most of his people had towards this highly dangerous, traitorous enemy.

 **The time was ripe. Once again, he would lead his Wargals into an attack. But this time he would have allies. And this time he would sow the ground with uncertainty and confusion beforehand. This time none of those who conspired against him previously would be left alive to aid King Duncan.**

Everyone in the room held their breath and the room became silent. Crowley glanced, concerned, at his friend, seeing Halt staring absently at the table. Under said table, Lady Pauline reached out a hand to clutch at Halts. The purpose was both to offer comfort her husband, to which Halt was grateful, and to reassure herself that Morgarath's plan hadn't succeeded.

 **For the Wargals were not the only ancient, terrifying creatures he had found in these somber mountains. He had two other allies, even more fearsome-the dreadful beasts known as the Kalkara.**

Sir Rodney flinched violently at the name of the terrifying creatures, remembering their paralyzing gaze.

 **The time was ripe to unleash them.**

George finished the chapter, and passed the book to Jenny, who was sat to his left.


	2. Chapter 1

Jenny picked up the book from the table and started on chapter one.

 **Chapter 1**

" **Try to eat something, Will. Tomorrow is a big day, after all." Jenny, blond, pretty and cheerful,**

Jenny smiled at the description of herself, and smiled at Will, meanwhile the other Ward mates nodded in agreement.

 **gestured toward Will's barely touched plate and smiled encouragingly at him. Will made an attempt to return the smile, but it was a dismal failure. He picked at the plate before him, piled high with his favorite foods. Tonight, his stomach knotted tight with tension and anticipation, he could hardly bring himself to swallow a bite.**

"Why were you nervous?" Gilan asked Will, and Will, who had realised what was going on, replied "Choosing Day!"

"What's Choosing Day?" Gilan enquired.

"You'll see."

 **Tomorrow would be a big day, he knew. He knew it all too well, in fact. Tomorrow would be the biggest day in his life, because tomorrow was the Choosing Day and it would determine how he spent the rest of his life.**

"A bit dramatic, aren't you?" Erak questioned, but instead of an answer, he received glares from all the Redmont residents.

 **"Nerves, I imagine," said George, setting down his loaded fork and seizing the lapels of his jacket in a judicious manner. He was a thin, gangly and studious boy, fascinated by rules and regulations and with a penchant for examining and debating both sides of any question-sometimes at great length.**

"You still do that." Horace told George, remembering his time in Nihon-Ja, with a grin to make sure he knew it was a joke.

 **"Dreadful thing, nervousness. It can just freeze you up so you can't think, can't eat, can't speak." "I'm not nervous," Will said quickly, noticing that Horace had looked up,**

"Oh no" Horace muttered, earning questioning glances from the rest of the room.

 **ready to form a sarcastic comment.**

At the last few words the ward mates, the Baron, Sir Rodney and Halt understood Horace's previous statement.

 **George nodded several times, considering Will's statement. "On the other hand," he added, "a little nervousness can actually improve performance. It can heighten your perceptions and sharpen your reactions.**

"If you're not nervous before a battle, you're either a fool or overconfident, either of which can be deadly." Gilan said philosophically.

"Stop stealing my wisdom." Halt protested. Crowley looked at him with an evil grin on his face.

"Pritchard was the one who kept saying that." Halt didn't dignify that with a response.

 **So, the fact that you are worried, if, in fact, you are, is not necessarily something to be worried about, of itself-so to speak." In spite of himself, a wry smile touched Will's mouth. George would be a natural in the legal profession, he thought. He would almost certainly be the Scribemaster's choice on the following morning.**

George reddened in embarrassment and looked down at the table. Lady Pauline then added to that embarrassment by saying "I heard Nigel mention you were his best apprentice"

 **Perhaps, Will thought, that was at the heart of his own problem. He was the only one of the wardmates who had any fears about the Choosing that would take place within twelve hours.**

"We were all nervous." Jenny said, smiling at Will.

 **"He ought to be nervous!" Horace scoffed.**

Horace winced.

 **"After all, which Craftmaster is going to want him as an apprentice?" "I'm sure we're all nervous," Alyss said. She directed one of her rare smiles at Will. "We'd be stupid not to be." "Well, I'm not!" Horace said, then reddened as Alyss raised one eyebrow and Jenny giggled.**

Horace made eye contact with Will, "I'm really sorry about how I acted back then."

"It's fine," Will replied, "You've saved my life too many times for me to hold a grudge." and the two friends shared a smile.

 **It was typical of Alyss, Will thought. He knew that the tall, graceful girl had already been promised a place as an apprentice by Lady Pauline, head of Castle Redmont's Diplomatic Service. Her pretense that she was nervous about the following day, and her tact in refraining from pointing out Horace's gaffe, showed that she was already a diplomat of some skill.**

Both of Halt's eyebrows were raised in surprise as he repeated the last two words "Some Skill!?" to which Alyss blushed.

 **Jenny, of course, would gravitate immediately to the castle kitchens, domain of Master Chubb, Redmont's head chef. He was a man renowned throughout the kingdom for the banquets served in the castle's massive dining hall. Jenny loved food and cooking, and her easygoing nature and unfailing good humor would make her an invaluable staff member in the turmoil of the castle kitchens.**

"Although not anymore" Jenny added. Baron Arald looked a little disappointed with that. Jenny had been a cook who rivaled Master Chubb.

 **Battleschool would be Horace's choice.**

"Obviously," Sir Rodney interrupted. "You did make it clear that's what you wanted."

 **Will glanced at his wardmate now, hungrily tucking into the roast turkey, ham and potatoes that he had heaped onto his plate. Horace was big for his age and a natural athlete.**

"That hasn't changed then." Cassandra said, smiling at her husband.

 **The chances that he would be refused were virtually nonexistent. Horace was exactly the type of recruit that Sir Rodney looked for in his warrior apprentices. Strong, athletic, fit. And, thought Will a trifle sourly, not too bright.**

"Hey!" all the offended knights shouted, to which Erak laughed at them. He soon stopped when Halt told him "The same thing can be said about you Scandians."

 **Battleschool was the path to knighthood for boys like Horace-born commoners but with the physical abilities to serve as knights of the kingdom. Which left Will. What would his choice be?**

"Definitely not what i expected," Will said with a grin, then quickly added "Not that I'd change it for anything," in response to Halt's upraised eyebrow.

 **More importantly, as Horace had pointed out, what Craftmaster would accept him as an apprentice? For Choosing Day was the pivotal point in the life of the castle wards. They were orphan children raised by the generosity of Baron Arald, the Lord of Redmont Fief. For the most part, their parents had died in the service of the fief, and the Baron saw it as his responsibility to care for and raise the children of his former subjects-and to give them an opportunity to improve their station in life wherever possible.**

Lady Sandra beemed at her husband.

 **Choosing Day provided that opportunity. Each year, castle wards turning fifteen could apply to be apprenticed to the masters of the various crafts that served the castle and its people. Ordinarily, craft apprentices were selected by dint of their parents' occupations or influence with the Craftmasters. The castle wards usually had no such influence and this was their chance to win a future for themselves. Those wards who weren't chosen, or for whom no openings could be found, would be assigned to farming families in the nearby village, providing farm labor to raise the crops and animals that fed the castle inhabitants.**

Remembering a certain conversation with Halt, Will started laughing. Everyone in the room, apart from Halt who and guessed why Will was laughing, looked at him in confusion.

 **It was rare for this to happen, Will knew. The Baron and his Craftmasters usually went out of their way to fit the wards into one craft or another. But it could happen and it was a fate he feared more than anything. Horace caught his eye now and gave him a smug smile. " Still planning on applying for Battleschool, Will?" he asked through a mouthful of turkey and potatoes. "Better eat something then. You'll need to build yourself up a little"**

There was silence in the room at past Horace's last statement, until Jenny broke it by saying "You still need to build yourself up." To which Will nodded, conceding the point.

 **He snorted with laughter and Will glowered at him. A few weeks previously, Horace had overheard Will confiding to Alyss that he desperately wanted to be selected for Battleschool, and he had made Will's life a misery ever since, pointing out on every possible occasion that Will's slight build was totally unsuited for the rigors of Battleschool training. The fact that Horace was probably right only made matters worse.**

"It's true." Will retorted, "From what I've heard from Horace I wouldn't have made it a week." Horace appreciated the way Will was able to laugh at himself and take the tension from the room.

 **Where Horace was tall and muscular, Will was small and wiry. He was agile and fast and surprisingly strong, but he simply didn't have the size that he knew was required of Battleschool apprentices. He'd hoped against hope for the past few years that he would have what people called his "growing spurt" before the Choosing Day came around.**

"Halt hasn't had his growing spurt yet either." Gilan said with a grin at him old mentor.

 **But it had never happened and now the day was nearly here. As Will said nothing, Horace sensed that he had scored a verbal hit. This was a rarity in their turbulent relationship.**

"It still is a rarity with us." Horace said with a laugh.

"A rarity?" Will replied, "It never happens!"

"I'm sure we'll find an example somewhere in these books."

 **Over the past few years, he and Will had clashed repeatedly. Being the stronger of the two, Horace usually got the better of Will, although very occasionally Will's speed and agility allowed him to get in a surprise kick or a punch and then escape before Horace could catch him. But while Horace generally had the best of their physical clashes, it was unusual for him to win any of their verbal encounters. Will's wit was as agile as the rest of him and he almost always managed to have the last word. In fact, it was this tendency that often led to trouble between them: Will was yet to learn that having the last word was not always a good idea.**

Halt looked at his former apprentice. "You still have to learn that."

Will glanced up, "So do you." and to Halt's annoyance, Crowley agreed, doing well to hide his grin.

 **Horace decided now to press his advantage. "You need muscles to get into Battleschool, Will. Real muscles,"**

"I have muscles." Will muttered under his breath.

"Of course you do, dear." Alyss replied. Will wondered if she had always been this sarcastic.

 **he said, glancing at the others around the table to see if anyone disagreed. The other wards, uncomfortable at the growing tension between the two boys, concentrated on their plates." Particularly between the ears," Will replied and, unfortunately, Jenny couldn't refrain from giggling.**

Sir Rodney glanced up at Will, "Do you have something against knights?"

"He gets that from you." Baron Arald accused, looking at Halt, who adopted a look of innocence.

 **Horace's face flushed and he started to rise from his seat. But Will was quicker and he was already at the door before Horace could disentangle himself from his chair. He contented himself with hurling a final insult after his retreating wardmate." That's right! Run away, Will No-Name! You're a no-name and nobody will want you as an apprentice!"**

"...I'm so sorry, Will" Horace said, almost whispering in the awkward silence.

"It's fine" Will replied in a tight voice. Hearing it, Alyss held her husband's hand under the table.

 **In the anteroom outside, Will heard the parting sally and felt blood flush to his cheeks. It was the taunt he hated most, although he had tried never to let Horace know that, sensing that he would provide the bigger boy with a weapon if he did. The truth was, nobody knew Will's second name. Nobody knew who his parents had been.**

Halt looked down at the table, his guilt ridden face hidden by the shadow of his cowl. Despite Will's protest to the opposite, he still felt guilty for making Will have to grow up the ward.

 **Unlike his yearmates, who had lived in the fief before their parents had died and whose family histories were known, Will had appeared, virtually out of nowhere, as a newborn baby.**

"Reminds me of a certain group…" King Duncan mentioned, pointing at the 4 rangers in the room.

 **He had been found, wrapped in a small blanket and placed in a basket, on the steps of the ward building fifteen years ago. A note had been attached to the blanket, reading simply: His mother died in childbirth. His father died a hero. Please care for him. His name is Will.**

The first of those lines caused Baron Arald to frown. 'His mother died in childbirth'? He'd heard the story from Halt when he'd first brought Will to Redmont. Then he dismissed the thought. Halt would have known what he was doing.

 **That year, there had been only one other ward. Alyss's father was a cavalry lieutenant who had died in the battle at Hackham Heath, when Morgarath's Wargal army had been defeated and driven back to the mountains. Alyss's mother, devastated by her loss, succumbed to a fever some weeks after giving birth. So there was plenty of room in the Ward for the unknown child, and Baron Arald was, at heart, a kindly man.**

"That's definitely true." Jenny commented, followed by enthusiastic agreement from the rest of the rest of the ward mates agreed.

 **Even though the circumstances were unusual, he had given permission for Will to be accepted as a ward of Castle Redmont. It seemed logical to assume that, if the note were true, Will's father had died in the war against Morgarath, and since Baron Arald had taken a leading part in that war, he felt duty bound to honor the unknown father's sacrifice. So Will had become a Redmont ward, raised and educated by the Baron's generosity. As time passed, the others had gradually joined him and Alyss until there were five in their year group. But while the others had memories of their parents or, in Alyss's case, people who had known them and who could tell her about them, Will knew nothing of his past.**

Halt sighed. Why couldn't he have found out more information about Will's parents? Maybe it could have made his time easier, even if Halt had to face the consequences. He would gladly face them for the boy, now the young man, who had become like his son.

 **That was why he had invented the story that had sustained him throughout his childhood in the Ward. And, as the years passed and he added detail and color to the story, he eventually came to believe it himself. His father, he knew, had died a hero's death. So it made sense to create a picture of him as a hero—a knight warrior in full armor, fighting against the Wargal hordes, cutting them down left and right until eventually he was overcome by sheer weight of numbers. Will had pictured the tall figure**

"Wait? Tall? Where do you think you got your shortness from?" Gilan teased, causing the room to laugh.

 **so often in his mind, seeing every detail of his armor and his equipment but never being able to visualize his face. As a warrior, his father would expect him to follow in his footsteps.**

"Perhaps you two should have swapped places" Sir Rodney joked, gesturing to Will and Gilan.

 **That was why selection for Battleschool was so important to Will. And that was why the more unlikely it became that he would be selected, the more desperately he clung to the hope that he might.**

"Unfortunately, that's how it often works." George said, sadly.

 **He exited from the Ward building into the darkened castle yard. The sun was long down and the torches placed every twenty meters or so on the castle walls shed a flickering, uneven light. He hesitated a moment. He would not return to the Ward and face Horace's continued taunts.**

Horace sank deeper into his chair.

 **To do so would only lead to another fight between them-a fight that Will knew that he would probably lose. George would probably try to analyze the situation for him, looking at both sides of the question and thoroughly confusing the issue.**

As she finished the sentence, Jenny looked at George and raised an eyebrow, remembering all the times George had done exactly that.

 **Alyss and Jenny might try to comfort him, he knew-Alyss particularly since they had grown up together. But at the moment he didn't want their sympathy**

To which Alyss and Jenny shared a glance, and shook their heads. "Men!" they said simultaneously.

 **and he couldn't face Horace's taunts, so he headed for the one place where he knew he could find solitude. The huge fig tree growing close by the castle's central tower had often afforded him a haven.**

"So there's where you'd disappear to." Alyss said thoughtfully.

"Great, I can't hide there anymore…" Will complained, but when Alyss glared at him, he was unable to keep the smirk from creeping onto his face.

 **Heights held no fear for Will and he climbed smoothly into the tree, continuing long after another might have stopped, until he was in the lighter branches at the very top-branches that swayed and dipped under his weight. In the past, he had often escaped from Horace up here. The bigger boy couldn't match Will's speed in the tree**

"I don't think anyone can." Halt said, raising his eyebrow at Will, which for Halt, was the equivalent of a huge grin.

 **and he was unwilling to follow as high as this. Will found a convenient fork and wedged himself in it, his body giving slightly to the movement of the tree as the branches swayed in the evening breeze.**

Crowley copied Halt in raising his eyebrow at Will, impressed by what he'd just heard.

 **Below, the foreshortened figures of the watch made their rounds of the castle yard. He heard the door of the Ward building open and, glancing down, saw Alyss emerge, looking around the yard for him in vain. The tall girl hesitated a few moments, then, seeming to shrug, turned back inside. The elongated rectangle of light that the open door threw across the yard was cut off as she closed the door softly behind her. Strange, he thought, how seldom people tend to look up.**

"Which you take advantage of as much as possible, then?" Cassie asked Will.

"Pretty much." Will answered.

 **There was a rustle of soft feathers and a barn owl landed on the next branch, its head swiveling, its huge eyes catching every last ray of the faint light. It studied him without concern, seeming to know it had nothing to fear from him. It was a hunter. A silent flyer. A ruler of the night. "At Least you know who you are," he said softly to the bird.**

"A bird!" Crowley deadpanned, causing a peal of laughter from the room. ( _Credit to Dorano1, i couldn't resist)_

 **It swiveled its head again, then launched itself off into the darkness, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Gradually, as he sat there, the lights in the castle windows went out, one by one. The torches burnt down to smoldering husks and were replaced at midnight by the change of watch. Eventually, there was only one light left burning and that, he knew, was in the Baron's study, where the Lord of Redmont was still presumably at work, poring over reports and papers.**

A loud groan came from where Baron Arald sat as he remembered the amount of reports he'd had that night.

 **The study was virtually level with Will's position in the tree and he could see the burly figure of the Baron seated at his desk.**

"Spying already?" Duncan joked.

"I wasn't spying!" Will said defensively. "It was just a coincidence", but as he saw the grin on the King's face he realised he was the victim of another practical joke, except this time not from one of his fellow rangers.

 **Finally Baron Arald rose, stretched and leaned forward to extinguish the lamp as he left the room, heading for his sleeping quarters on the floor above. Now the castle was asleep, except for the guards on the walls, who kept constant watch. In less than nine hours, Will realized, he would face the Choosing. Silently, miserably, fearing the worst, he climbed down from the tree and made his way to his bed in the darkened boys' dormitory in the Ward.**

"Chapter finished." Jenny told the room, passing on the book.

 _A/N ArelaCannald: Thank you for the review, I didn't realize how long each chapter would take when I started._


	3. Chapter 2

Gilan picked up the book and started reading.

 **Chapter 2**

" **All right, candidates! This way! And look lively!"**

Gilan said in a loud, enthusiastic voice which almost perfectly mimicked the speaker, causing a chorus of laughter from the room.

 **The speaker, or more correctly the shouter, was Martin, secretary to Baron Arald.**

"Good impression of him." Baron Arald commented.

 **As his voice echoed around the anteroom, the five wards rose uncertainly from the long wooden benches where they had been seated. Suddenly nervous now that the day had finally arrived, they began to shuffle forward, each one reluctant to be the first through the great ironbound door that Martin now held open for them. "Come on, come on!" Martin bellowed impatiently.**

"He's always bellowing." Halt muttered.

 **Alyss finally elected to lead the way, as Will had guessed she would.**

"Of course you did." Cassandra said to Alyss, grinning at her friend, "A diplomat from the beginning!"

 **The others followed the willowy blonde girl. Now that someone had decided to lead, the rest of them were content to follow. Will looked around curiously as he entered the Baron's study. He'd never been in this part of the castle before.**

"Apart from spying from that tree…" Baron Arald grumbled, but Will could see the humor behind it in his eyes.

"I'd only seen it from one angle." Will replied in kind.

 **This tower, containing the administrative section and the Baron's private apartments, was seldom visited by those of low rank-such as castle wards. The room was huge. The ceiling seemed to tower above him**

"Every ceiling towers above you, Shorty." Gilan grinned.

"Who are you talking to, Will or Halt?" Crowley asked.

"Both."

"Just because you're an abomination of nature…" Halt complained. "Besides, Crowley, you're only a little bit taller than me."

"And don't you forget it."

 **and the walls were constructed of massive stone blocks, fitted together with only the barest lines of mortar between them. On the eastern wall was a huge window space-open to the elements but with massive wooden shutters that could be closed in the event of bad weather. It was the same window he had seen through last night, he realized.**

"See!" Baron Arald said to Will, who grinned in response.

 **Today, sunlight streamed in and fell on the huge oak table that Baron Arald used as a desk. "Come on now! Stand in line, stand in line!" Martin seemed to be enjoying his moment of authority.**

"He has so few." Arald mumbled.

 **The group shuffled slowly into line and he studied them, his mouth twisted in disapproval." In size place! Tallest this end!" He indicated the end where he wanted the tallest of the five to stand. Gradually, the group rearranged itself. Horace, of course, was the tallest.**

"Of course you were, you giant." Will said with mock venom.

 **After him, Alyss took her position. Then George, half a head shorter than she and painfully thin. He stood in his usual stoop-shouldered posture. Will and Jenny hesitated. Jenny smiled at Will and gestured for him to go before her, even though she was possibly an inch taller than he was.**

"Thanks for trying, Jenny." Will smiled.

"It would have worked if Martin wasn't so picky." she replied.

 **That was typical of Jenny. She knew how Will agonized over the fact that he was the smallest of all the castle wards. As Will moved into the line, Martin's voice stopped him.**

Will grunted, remembering how annoying Martin could be.

 **"Not you! The girl's next." Jenny shrugged apologetically and moved into the place Martin had indicated. Will took the last place in the line, wishing Martin hadn't made his lack of height so apparent." Come on! Smarten up, smarten up! Let's see you at attention there," Martin continued, then broke off as a deep voice interrupted him. "I don't believe that's totally necessary, Martin." It was Baron Arald,**

"Thank you!" the ward mates chorused.

 **who had entered, unobserved, by way of a smaller door behind his massive desk. Now it was Martin who brought himself to what he considered to be a position of attention, with his skinny elbows held out from his sides, his heels forced together so that his unmistakably bowed legs were widely separated at the knees, and his head thrown back.**

Most of the room snorted in amusement as they pictured the secretary doing that pose.

 **Baron Arald raised his eyes to heaven. Sometimes his secretary's zeal on these occasions could be a little overwhelming. The Baron was a big man, broad in shoulder and waist and heavily muscled, as was necessary for a knight of the realm.**

The Baron in question sat up in his seat, proudly. Lady Sandra, sat next to her husband, shook her head and rolled her eyes. Meanwhile, Gilan, who had seen the next sentence, struggled to keep the grin from breaking through onto his face.

 **It was well known, however, that Baron Arald was fond of his food and drink, so his considerable bulk was not totally attributable to muscle.**

Baron Arald, his eyebrows drawn together and a scowl on his face, glared at the book. Everyone else in the room burst into laughter and giggles, except from Halt, Alyss and Pauline, who were the only ones managing to keep from laughing, only just. Jenny looked to her boyfriend, wondering how he had managed to keep himself together for the whole sentence.

"Okay, it's not that funny!" Arald bellowed to the group, who had all almost managed to compose themselves, which caused another bout of giggling to ripple through. "You Skandians are large too!" he tried arguing.

"But our bulk is attributed to muscle." Erak countered.

Will tried to contain his laughter long enough to whisper to Alyss, "Big word for a Skandian." to which she elbowed him in the ribs, but lightly since she was trying not to laugh.

( _I feel like i went on too long for this part_ )

 **He had a short, neatly trimmed black beard that, like his hair, was beginning to show the traces of gray that went with his forty-two years. He had a strong jaw, a large nose and dark, piercing eyes under heavy brows. It was a powerful face, but not an unkind one, Will thought.**

"Thank you, Will." Baron Arald said, glad the attention had been diverted from his weight.

 **There was a surprising hint of humor in those dark eyes.**

"Then why doesn't anyone laugh at my jokes?" Arald questioned.

"What jokes?" Rodney replied, straight faced.

 **Will had noted it before, on the occasions when Arald had made his infrequent visits to the wards' quarters to see how their lessons and personal development were progressing. "Sir!" Martin said at top volume, causing the Baron to wince slightly. "The candidates are assembled!" "I can see that," Baron Arald replied patiently. "Perhaps you might be good enough to ask the Craftmasters to step in as well?" "Sir!" Martin responded, making an attempt to click his heels together. As he was wearing shoes of a soft, pliable leather, the attempt was doomed to failure.**

Duncan shook his head in despair, although the smile on his face told.

 **He marched toward the main door of the study, all elbows and knees. Will was reminded of a rooster. As Martin laid his hand on the door handle, the Baron stopped him once more. "Martin?" he said softly. As the secretary turned an inquiring look back at him, he continued in the same quiet tone, "Ask them. Don't bellow at them. Craftmasters don't like that."**

"Does anyone?" Crowley said with a roll of his eyes.

"No." Halt answered, despite the fact it was a rhetorical question.

 **"Yes, sir," said Martin, looking somewhat deflated. He opened the door and, making an obvious effort to speak in a lower tone, said, "Craftmasters. The Baron is ready now" The Craftschool heads entered the room in no particular order of precedence. As a group, they admired and respected one another and so rarely stood on strict ceremonial procedure. Sir Rodney, head of the Battleschool, came first.**

Sir Rodney sat up straight in his seat, eager to hear his description, but also slightly concerned since he'd heard Arald's.

 **Tall and broad-shouldered like the Baron, he wore the standard battledress of chain mail shirt under a white surcoat emblazoned with his own crest, a scarlet wolfshead. He had earned that crest as a young man, fighting the wolfships of the Skandian sea raiders**

Everyone looked towards Erak, who guessed it would he his country's turn to lose its dignity.

 **who constantly harried the kingdom's east coast.**

"Not anymore!" Erak said, a little defensively.

 **He wore a sword belt and sword, of course. No knight would be seen in public without one. He was around the Baron's age, with blue eyes and a face that would have been remarkably handsome**

The knight in question sat up at that, smiling smugly.

 **if it weren't for the massively broken nose.**

And the smile turned into a frown.

 **He sported an enormous mustache but, unlike the Baron, he had no beard.**

"A broken nose? That's the only negative thing they said about you?" Baron Arald complained.

"What other negative thing could they have said?" Sir Rodney replied smugly.

"That you're an asshole!"

"No!" Will chimed in, "They're saving that for Halt!" to which his ex-mentor glared at him. Meanwhile Pauline frowned, apparently Halt's language wasn't the only one she'd have to manage.

 **Next came the Horsemaster, responsible for the care and training of the castle's mighty battlehorses. He had keen brown eyes, strong, muscular forearms and heavy wrists. He wore a simple leather vest over his woolen shirt and leggings. Tall riding boots of soft leather reached up past his knees. Lady Pauline followed. Slim, gray-haired and elegant, she had been a considerable beauty in her youth and still had the grace and style to turn men's heads.**

Halt frowned a little at this, slightly jealous.

 **Lady Pauline, who had been awarded the title in her own right for her work in foreign policy for the kingdom, was head of the Diplomatic Service in Redmont. Baron Arald regarded her abilities highly and she was one of his close confidants and advisers. Arald often said that girls made the best recruits to the Diplomatic Service.**

"And also the best at controlling Halt." Horace added, to which Halt's frown deepened.

 **They tended to be more subtle than boys, who gravitated naturally to Battleschool. And while boys constantly looked to physical means as the way of solving problems, girls could be depended on to use their wits.**

"Although sometimes, when wit doesn't work, you need physical means to solve problems" Alyss said, and she and Halt exchanged a glance, remembering a certain incident with a knight.

 **It was perhaps only natural that Nigel, the Scribemaster, followed close behind Lady Pauline. They had been discussing matters of mutual interest while they waited for Martin to summon them. Nigel and Lady Pauline were close friends as well as professional colleagues.**

Halt frowned, a little enviously. Crowley, noticing, decided to not pass up on the opportunity to tease his friend. "Jealous?" he asked, and Halt glared in response.

 **It was Nigel's trained scribes who prepared the official documents and communiques that were so often delivered by Lady Pauline's diplomats. He also advised on the exact wording of such documents, having an extensive background in legal matters. Nigel was a small, wiry man with a quick, inquisitive face that reminded Will of a ferret.**

George cocked his head thoughtfully. He'd never made that comparison with his mentor, and it wasn't how he would have worded it, but now it had been said, he couldn't deny how true it was.

 **His hair was glossy black, his features were thin and his dark eyes never ceased roaming the room. Master Chubb, the castle cook, came in last of all. Inevitably, he was a fat, round-bellied man, wearing a cook's white jacket and tall hat. He was known to have a terrible temper that could flare as quickly as oil spilled on a fire, and most of the wards treated him with considerable caution. Florid-faced and with red, rapidly receding hair, Master Chubb carried a wooden ladle with him wherever he went. It was an unofficial staff of office. It was also used quite often as an offensive weapon, landing with a resounding crack on the heads of careless, forgetful or slow-moving kitchen apprentices.**

"And now he's passed that skill on to you, Jen." Gilan said to his girlfriend with a smile.

 **Alone among the group, Jenny saw Chubb as something of a hero.**

"I can't see why." Will grumbled under his breath, remembering a certain incident while he was in the ward.

 **It was her avowed intention to work for him and learn his skills, wooden ladle or no wooden ladle. There were other Craftmasters, of course. The Armorer and the Blacksmith were two. But only those Craftmasters who currently had vacancies for new apprentices would be represented today." The Craftmasters are assembled, sir!" Martin said, his voice rising in volume. Martin seemed to equate volume and the importance of the occasion in direct proportion. Once again, the Baron raised his eyes to heaven.**

The baron in question repeated that action.

 **"So I see," he said quietly, then added, in a more formal tone, "Good morning, Lady Pauline. Good morning, gentlemen." They replied and the Baron turned to Martin once more. "Perhaps we might proceed?" Martin nodded several times, consulted a sheaf of notes he held in one hand and marched to confront the line of candidates. "Right, the Baron's waiting! The Baron's waiting! Who's first?"**

"What about the first in line?" Halt asked sarcastically.

 **Will, eyes down, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, suddenly had the strange sensation that someone was watching him. He looked up and actually started with surprise as he met the dark, unfathomable gaze of Halt, the Ranger.**

Gilan made eye contact with Will, and half whispered "Run!"

 **Will hadn't seen him come into the room. He realized that the mysterious figure must have slipped in through a side door while everyone's attention was on the Craftmasters as they made their entrance.**

"No. I was right behind Rodney." Halt objected.

"You were?" a puzzled Rodney asked. "I didn't hear you."

"Of course you didn't, you knights make enough noise to wake a dead horse."

"Hey!" all the offended knights protested.

Meanwhile Crowley whispered to his friend "Yeah right." He didn't believe what Halt had said, guessing it was just a way for Halt to take a job at the knights.

 **Now he stood behind the Baron's chair and slightly to one side, dressed in his usual brown and gray clothes and wrapped in his long, mottled gray and green Ranger's cloak. Halt was an unnerving person. He had a habit of coming up on you when you least expected it-and you never heard his approach.**

Crowley felt eyes on him, and looked up to meet the glares of Duncan, Cassandra, and Horace, all three of whom came from Castle Araluen with him.

"What?" he asked innocently, even though he knew exactly why. He was regarded the best at unheard mover in the corps, which he always took advantage of around Castle Araluen.

 **The superstitious villagers believed that Rangers practiced a form of magic that made them invisible to ordinary people. Will wasn't sure if he believed that-but he wasn't sure he disbelieved it either.**

Halt made eye contact with his ex-apprentice, and raised one eyebrow accusingly.

"I was only a kid!" Will said defensively.

 **He wondered why Halt was here today. He wasn't recognized as one of the Craftmasters and, as far as Will knew, he hadn't attended a Choosing session prior to this one. Abruptly, Halt's gaze cut away from him and it was as if a light had been turned off. Will realized that Martin was talking once more.**

"Wow! Astute!" Gilan said sarcastically.

"Wow! Asshole!" Will replied in a similar tone, finishing with a grin.

Yep, Lady Pauline thought, she'd definitely have to get onto the Baron about his language.

 **He noticed that the secretary had a habit of repeating statements, as if he were followed by his own personal echo." Now then, who's first? Who's first?" The Baron sighed audibly. "Why don't we take the first in line?" he suggested in a reasonable tone,**

"How on earth did you keep a reasonable tone?" Sir Rodney wondered.

 **and Martin nodded several times. "Of course, my lord. Of course. First in line, step forward and face the Baron." After a moment's hesitation, Horace stepped forward out of the line and stood at attention. The Baron studied him for a few seconds. "Name?" he said, and Horace answered, stumbling slightly over the correct method of address for the Baron. "Horace Altman, sir… my lord." "And do you have a preference, Horace?" the Baron asked, with the air of one who knows what the answer is going to be before hearing it.**

"You could have been a little less obvious about it." Alyss teased.

 **"Battleschool, sir!" Horace said firmly. The Baron nodded. He'd expected as much. He glanced at Rodney, who was studying the boy thoughtfully, assessing his suitability. "Battlemaster?" the Baron said. Normally he would address Rodney by his first name, not his title. But this was a formal occasion. By the same token, Rodney would usually address the Baron as "sir." But on a day like today, "my lord" was the proper form. The big knight stepped forward, his chain mail and spurs chinking slightly as he moved closer to Horace.**

Halt muttered something under his breath. Something that sounded like 'noisy knights'

 **He eyed the boy up and down, then moved behind him. Horace's head started to turn with him." Still," Sir Rodney said, and the boy ceased his movement, staring straight ahead. "Looks strong enough, my lord, and I can always use new trainees. "He rubbed one hand over his chin. "You ride, Horace Altman?" A look of uncertainty crossed Horace's face as he realized this might be a hurdle to his selection. "Well… no, sir. I…" He was about to add that castle wards had little chance to learn to ride, but Sir Rodney interrupted him. "No matter. That can be taught." The big knight looked at the Baron and nodded. "Very well, my lord. I'll take him for Battleschool, subject to the usual three-month probationary period." The Baron made a note on a sheet of paper before him and smiled briefly at the delighted, and very relieved, youth before him." Congratulations, Horace. Report to Battleschool tomorrow morning. Eight o'clock sharp." "Yes, sir!" Horace replied, grinning widely. He turned to Sir Rodney and bowed slightly. "Thank you, sir!" "Don't thank me yet," the knight replied cryptically. "You don't know what you're in for."**

"Understatement of the decade." Horace muttered moodily, thinking about a certain 3 battleschool apprentices who had made the start of his own training a nightmare.

 _A/N You may have noticed, but I started getting really tired near the end but I really wanted to get it out quickly. After I have posted this, if I think of something to add, I will include it._

 _Thank you to Weirdo and Christian for reviewing, Falachen for reviewing and favoriting, AreiaCannaid for reviewing and following, and Yogmon for following._

 _I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint._


	4. Chapter 3

Gilan, who had read the last chapter, passed the book onto Crowley.

 **Chapter 3**

 **Who's next then?"**

"The next in line?" Crowley asked sarcastically.

 **Martin was calling as Horace, grinning broadly, stepped back into the line. Alyss stepped forward gracefully, annoying Martin, who had wanted to nominate her as the next candidate.**

"That's my girl." Lady Pauline said smugly, smiling at her protégé.

 **"Alyss Mainwaring, my lord," she said in her quiet, level voice. Then, before she could be asked, she continued, "I request an appointment to the Diplomatic Service, please, my lord." Arald smiled at the solemn-looking girl. She had an air of self-confidence and poise about her that would suit her well in the Service. He glanced at Lady Pauline. "My lady?" he said. She nodded her head several times. "I've already spoken to Alyss, my lord. I believe she will be an excellent candidate. Approved and accepted." Alyss made a small bow of her head in the direction of the woman who would be her mentor. Will thought how alike they were-both tall and elegant in their movements, both grave in manner.**

"Well no one can say you two Rangers don't have a type." Sir Rodney said pointing at the two Ranger-Diplomat pairs, receiving glares from all four.

 **He felt a small surge of pleasure for his oldest companion, knowing how much she had wanted this selection. Alyss stepped back in line and Martin, not to be forestalled this time, was already pointing to George.**

"Of course he wouldn't." Baron Arald sighed a little irritated.

 **"Right! You're next! You're next! Address the Baron." George stepped forward. His mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out. The other wards watched in surprise. George, long regarded by them all as the official advocate for just about everything, was overcome with stage fright.**

King Duncan's eyebrows rose in surprise. George was becoming one of the most well known lawyers in the kingdom.

 **He finally managed to say something in a low voice that nobody in the room could hear. Baron Arald leaned forward, one hand cupped behind his ear. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that," he said. George looked up at the Baron and, with an enormous effort, spoke in ajust-audible voice. "G-George Carter, sir. Scribe school, sir." Martin, ever a stickler for the proprieties, drew breath to berate him for the truncated nature of his address.**

"Of course he would." Will said, rolling his eyes.

 **Before he could do so, and to everyone's evident relief, Baron Arald stepped in.**

George nodded his head in thanks to the Baron.

 **"Very well, Martin. Let it go. "Martin looked a little aggrieved, but subsided. The Baron glanced at Nigel, his chief scribe and legal officer, one eyebrow raised in question. "Acceptable, my lord," he said, adding, "I've seen some of George's work and he really does have a gift for calligraphy." The Baron looked doubtful. "He's not the most forceful of speakers, though, is he, Scribemaster? That could be a problem if he has to offer legal counsel at any time in the future."**

"Arald!" Duncan exclaimed, exaggerating slightly, while everyone, except George who blushed heavily, gave the Baron an accusatory glare.

 **Nigel shrugged the objection aside. "I promise you, my lord, with proper training that sort of thing represents no problem. Absolutely no problem at all, my lord." The Scribemaster folded his hands together into the wide sleeves of the monk like habit he wore as he warmed to his theme. "I remember a boy who joined us some seven years back, rather like this one here, as a matter of fact. He had that same habit of mumbling to his shoes —but we soon showed him how to overcome it. Some of our most reluctant speakers have gone on to develop absolute eloquence, my lord, absolute eloquence." The Baron drew breath to comment, but Nigel continued in his discourse. "It may even surprise you to hear that as a boy, I myself suffered from a most terrible nervous stutter. Absolutely terrible, my lord. Could barely put two words together at a time."**

"Not anymore." Erak inputted, wanting to say something while he understood what this Nigel was talking about.

 **"Hardly a problem now, I see," the Baron managed to put in dryly, and Nigel smiled, taking the point. He bowed to the Baron. "Exactly, my lord. We'll soon help young George overcome his shyness. Nothing like the rough and tumble of Scribeschool for that. Absolutely."**

There were several snorts from various points around the room.

 **The Baron smiled in spite of himself. The Scribeschool was a studious place where voices were rarely, if ever, raised and where logical, reasoned debate reigned supreme. Personally, on his visits to the place, he had found it mind-numbing in the extreme. Anything less like a rough and tumble atmosphere he could not imagine. "I'll take your word for it," he replied, then to George he said, "Very well, George, request granted. Report to Scribeschool tomorrow." George shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Mumble-mumble-mumble," he said and the Baron leaned forward again, frowning as he tried to make out the lowpitched words. "What was that?" he asked. George finally looked up and managed to whisper, "Thank you, my lord." He hurriedly shuffled back to the relative anonymity of the line. "Oh," said the Baron, a little taken aback. "Think nothing of it. Now, next is…" Jenny was already stepping forward. Blond and pretty,**

The girl in question sat up and beamed.

 **she was also, it had to be admitted, a little on the chubby side. But the look suited her, and at any of the castle's social functions, she was a much sought-after dance partner with the boys in the castle, both her yearmates in the Ward and the sons of castle staff as well.**

Will glanced over to Gilan and realised he was doing a very bad job of hiding his jealousy. This would definitely be something to tease him about later.

 **"Master Chubb, sir!" she said now, stepping forward right to the edge of the Baron's desk. The Baron looked into the round face, saw the eagerness shining there in the blue eyes, and couldn't help smiling at her. "What about him?" he asked gently and she hesitated, realizing that, in her enthusiasm, she had breached the protocol of the Choosing.**

"Oopsy daisy!" Jenny said, a slight red blush on her cheeks.

 **"Oh! Your pardon, sir…my…Baron…your lordship,"**

"I'm going to start addressing you as 'your lordship' from now on." King Duncan interjected.

 **she hastily improvised, her tongue running away with her as she mangled the correct form of address. "My lord!" Martin prompted her. Baron Arald looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Yes, Martin?" he said. "What is it?"**

Everyone laughed at Arald's teasing of his secretary.

 **Martin had the grace to look embarrassed. He knew that his master was intentionally misunderstanding his interruption. He took a deep breath, and said in an apologetic tone, "I… simply wanted to inform you that the candidate's name is Jennifer**

"Jenny!" all the ward mates and Gilan corrected.

 **Dalby, sir." The Baron nodded at him, and Martin, a devoted servant of the heavy bearded man, saw the look of approval in his lord's eyes. "Thank you, Martin. Now, Jennifer Dalby…" "Jenny, sir," said the irrepressible girl, and he shrugged resignedly. "Jenny, then. I assume that you are applying to be apprenticed to Master Chubb?" "Oh, yes, please, sir!" Jenny replied breathlessly, turning adoring eyes on the portly, red-haired cook.**

Will glanced over to Gilan once again to check if his friend was still looking jealous. He was.

 **Chubb scowled thoughtfully and considered her." Mmmmm… could be, could be," he muttered, walking back and forth in front of her. She smiled winningly at him, but Chubb was beyond such feminine wiles. "I'd work hard, sir," she told him earnestly. "I know you would!" he replied with some spirit. "I'd make sure of it, girl. No slacking or lollygagging in my kitchen, let me tell you." Fearing that her opportunity might be slipping away,**

"Of course not." Arald said, "He always does that."

 **Jenny played her trump card. "I have the right shape for it," she said. Chubb had to agree that she was well rounded. Arald, not for the first time that morning, hid a smile." She has a point there, Chubb," he put in, and the cook turned to him in agreement." Shape is important, sir. All great cooks tend to be… rounded." He turned back to the girl, still considering. It was all very well for the others to accept their trainees in the wink of an eye, he thought. But cooking was something special. "Tell me," he said to the eager girl, "what would you do with a turkey pie?"**

"Eat it!" Horace half shouted.

Will grinned at his friend and fake whispered "Kurokuma."

 **Jenny smiled dazzlingly at him. "Eat it," she answered immediately. Chubb rapped her on the head with the ladle he carried. "I meant what would you do about cooking it?" he asked. Jenny hesitated, gathered her thoughts, then plunged into a lengthy technical description of how she would go about constructing such a masterpiece. The other four wards, the Baron, his Craftmasters and Martin listened in some awe, with absolutely no comprehension of what she was saying. Chubb, however, nodded several times as she spoke, interrupting as she detailed the rolling of the pastry. "Nine times, you say?" he said curiously and Jenny nodded, sure of her ground. "My mother always said: 'Eight times to make it flaky and once more for love,'" she said. Chubb nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting. Interesting," he said, then, looking up at the Baron, he nodded. "I'll take her, my lord."**

"As if there was ever any doubt." Sir Rodney added.

 **"What a surprise," the Baron said mildly, then added, "Very well, report to the kitchens in the morning, Jennifer."**

"Jenny!"

 **"Jenny, sir," the girl corrected him again, her smile lighting up the room. Baron Arald smiled. He glanced at the small group before him. "And that leaves us with one more candidate." He glanced at his list, then looked up to meet Will's agonized gaze, gesturing encouragement. Will stepped forward, nervousness suddenly drying his throat so that his voice came out in barely a whisper. "Will, sir. My name is Will."**

"Dun dun duuuuuunnnnn…" Will said while making a drumroll sound by hitting the table.

 _A/N_

 _Apologies for the long delay, I went to France to visit my Aunt and I forgot to bring my laptop to work on this. I'll try upload twice a week to make up for the weeks I lost._


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Pauline, sat next to Crowley, picked up the book and started reading.

" **Will? Will who?" Martin asked in exasperation, flicking through the sheets of paper with the candidates' details written on them. He had only been the Baron's secretary for five years and so knew nothing of Will's history. He realized now that there was no family name on the boy's papers and, assuming he had let this mistake slip past, he was annoyed at himself.**

Halt stiffened in his seat, looking down at the table, before clearing his throat and muttering "He would be…"

"At least someone tries to be organised with his paperwork." Crowley added.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Halt deadpanned.

" **What's your family name, boy?" he asked severely. Will looked at him, hesitating, hating this moment. "I … don't have … ," he began, but mercifully the Baron interceded. "Will is a special case, Martin," he said quietly, his look telling the secretary to let the matter go. He turned back to Will, smiling encouragement. "What school did you wish to apply for, Will?" he asked. "Battleschool, please, my lord," Will replied, trying to sound confident in his choice. The Baron allowed a frown to crease his forehead and Will felt his hopes sinking. "Battleschool, Will? You don't think you're … a little on the small side?" the Baron asked gently. Will bit his lip. He had all but convinced himself that if he wanted this badly enough, if he believed in himself strongly enough, he would be accepted—in spite of his obvious shortcomings. "I haven't had my growing spurt yet, sir,"**

Gilan looked at Will while grinning mischievously, "You still haven't had it." causing Will to glare back, trying to hold back a grin, and Jenny, sat besides him, dug her elbow into his ribs.

 **he said desperately. "Everybody says that." The Baron rubbed his bearded chin with thumb and forefinger as he considered the boy before him. He glanced to his Battlemaster. "Rodney?" he said. The tall knight stepped forward, studied Will for a moment or two, then slowly shook his head. "I'm afraid he's too small, my lord," he said. Will felt a cold hand clutch his heart. "I'm stronger than I look, sir," he said. But the Battlemaster was unswayed by the plea. He glanced at the Baron, obviously not enjoying the situation,**

"I don't think anyone was enjoying it…" Arold sighed,

"I am!" Gilan added.

 **and shook his head. "Any second choice, Will?" the Baron asked. His voice was gentle, even concerned. Will hesitated for a long moment. He had never considered any other selection. "Horseschool, sir?" he asked finally. Horseschool trained and cared for the mighty battlehorses that the castle's knights rode. It was at least a link to Battleschool, Will thought. But Ulf, the Horsemaster, was shaking his head already, even before the Baron asked his opinion. "I need apprentices, my lord," he said, "but this one's too small. He'd never control one of my battlehorses. They'd stomp him into the ground as soon as look at him."**

"I did well with Kicker…" Will muttered lightheartedly, causing a small burst of laughter.

 **Will could only see the Baron through a watery blur now. He fought desperately to keep the tears from sliding down his cheeks. That would be the ultimate humiliation: to be rejected from Battleschool and then to break down and cry like a baby in front of the Baron, all the Craftmasters and his wardmates. "What skills do you have, Will?" the Baron was asking him. Will racked his brain. He wasn't good at lessons and languages,**

"You're still not." Halt interjected causing Will to roll his eyes.

 **as Alyss was. He couldn't form neat, perfect letters, the way George did.**

"You still can't." Crowley added, joining in the friendly mocking of the newest Ranger.

 **Nor did he have Jenny's interest in cooking.**

"That I do have!" Will exclaimed before anyone could add anything else.

 **And he certainly didn't have Horace's muscles and strength.**

" I have muscles now!" Will added, jumping from his chair, until he met Horace's eyes, and the knight shook his head slowly, trying to keep the smirk off his face, before adding "No you don't" in an exaggerated whisper.

" **I'm a good climber, sir," he said finally, seeing that the Baron was waiting for him to say something. It was a mistake, he realized instantly. Chubb, the cook, glared at him angrily. "He can climb, all right. I remember when he climbed up a drain-pipe into my kitchen and stole a tray of sweetcakes that were cooling on the windowsill." Will's jaw dropped with the unfairness of it all. That had been two years ago! He was a child then and it was a mere childish prank, he wanted to say. But now the Scribemaster was talking too.**

Halt suddenly sat up straight in his chair, a grin slowly growing on his face. The sudden movement caused Duncan to look at him, curiously.

"This part was hilarious." Halt said to answer the unspoken question.

Meanwhile Will pulled the cowl of his hood over his head and hid his face in his hands, preparing for the embarrassment. A quiet "Oh no." could be heard from his direction. This caused Gilan to lean forward, concentrating to find something to tease his friend with later.

" **And just this last spring he climbed up to our third-floor study and turned two rabbits loose during one of our legal debates. Most disruptive. Absolutely!"**

Another "Oh no." came from Will's direction.

" **Rabbits, you say, Scribemaster?" said the Baron, and Nigel nodded emphatically. "A male and a female rabbit, my lord,**

"Please say this is going where I think it's going." Gilan wished, crossing his fingers.

 **if you take my meaning?" he replied."Most disruptive indeed!" Unseen by Will, the very serious Lady Pauline put one elegant hand in front of her mouth. She might have been concealing a yawn. But when she removed the hand, the corners of her mouth were slightly uptilted still.**

Duncan raised his eyebrows at the diplomat, who copied the facial expression but otherwise keeping her poker face intact.

" **Well, yes," said the Baron. "We all know how rabbits are." "And, as I said, my lord, it was spring," Nigel went on, in case the Baron had missed the point.**

"Why couldn't I have been there?" Gilan asked through his laughter.

 **Lady Pauline gave vent to an unladylike cough.**

"You did well up to then." Halt said to his wife.

"Well I wasn't hiding under a hood." Pauline replied.

 **The Baron looked in her direction, in some surprise. "I think we get the picture, Scribemaster," he said,**

Gilan suddenly stopped laughing, and almost shouted in desperation, "No! No! More! Why did you stop it!" he pouted at the Arald who looked exasperated in return.

 **then returned his gaze to the desperate figure who stood in front of him. Will kept his chin up and stared straight ahead. The Baron felt for the young lad in that moment.**

"Only in that moment?" Will asked, finally emerging from his hands.

 **He could see the tears welling up in those lively brown eyes, held back only by an infinite determination. Willpower, he thought abstractedly, recognizing the play on the boy's name.**

Will looked embarrassed again, but for a different reason than earlier. Horace made a mental note to tease him about it later.

 **He didn't enjoy putting the boy through all this, but it had to be done. He sighed inwardly. "Is there any one of you who could use this boy?" he said. Despite himself, Will allowed his head to turn and gaze pleadingly at the line of Craftmasters, praying that one of them would relent and accept him.**

"Who would have thought stubborn Halt would be the one to relent?" Erak said, remembering how stubborn the Ranger could be, and said Ranger glared in the Oberjarl's direction.

 **One by one, silently, they shook their heads. Surprisingly, it was the Ranger who broke the awful silence in the room.**

"See!" Erak added, causing a return of the glare.

" **There is something you should know about this boy, my lord," he said. Will had never heard Halt speak before. His voice was deep and soft-spoken, with the slightest burr of a Hibernian accent still noticeable.**

Horace and Will shared a grin, knowing what it meant.

 **He stepped forward now and handed the Baron a sheet of paper, folded double. Arald unfolded it, studied the words written there and frowned. "You're sure of this, Halt?"**

"When is he not?" Crowley asked.

 **he said. "Indeed, my lord." The Baron carefully refolded the paper and placed it on his desk. He drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the desktop, then said: "I'll have to think on this overnight." Halt nodded and stepped back, seeming to fade into the background as he did so. Will stared anxiously at him, wondering what information the mysterious figure had passed on to the Baron. Like most people, Will had grown up believing that Rangers were people who were best avoided.**

Crowley frowned, looking genuinely hurt.

 **They were a secretive, arcane group,**

Gilan looked proud at the description of the group he was a part of.

 **shrouded in mystery and uncertainty,**

It was Will's turn to look pleased.

 **and that uncertainty led to fear.**

And then a smirk grew on Halt's face.

 **Will didn't like the thought that Halt knew something about him—something that he felt was important enough to bring to the Baron's attention today, of all days. The sheet of paper lay there, tantalizingly close, yet impossibly far away.**

"You wouldn't have been stopped if you'd looked at that moment." Halt commented.

"Thanks. That's such useful information now." Will said sarcastically.

 **He realized that there was movement around him and the Baron was speaking to the other people in the room. "Congratulations to those who were selected here today. It's a big day for all of you, so you're free to have the rest of the day off and enjoy yourselves.**

"Skyvers!" Gilan called out, causing the former Ward mates to glare at him.

"Says the one who tried, and failed, to follow Halt for half a day." Horace retorted.

 **The kitchens will provide a banquet for you in your quarters and for the rest of the day you have free run of the castle and the village. "Tomorrow, you'll report to your new Craftmasters first thing in the morning. And if you'll take a tip from me, you'll make sure you're on time."**

"Yes, Gilan!" Halt said, looking at his first apprentice.

 **He smiled at the other four, then addressed Will, with a hint of sympathy in his voice. "Will, I'll let you know tomorrow what I've decided about you."**

"It was technically the next day when I found out…" Will tried to defend.

 **He turned to Martin and gestured for him to show the new apprentices out. "Thank you, everyone," he said, and left the room through the door behind his desk. The Craftmasters followed his lead, then Martin ushered the former wards to the door. They chatted together excitedly, relieved and delighted that they had been selected by the Craftmasters of their choice. Will hung back behind the others, hesitating as he passed the desk where that sheet of paper still lay.**

"You really could have just taken it, no one would have stopped you." Arald said with humor behind his eyes.

 **He stared at it for a moment, as if somehow he could see through to the words written on the reverse side. Then he felt that same sensation that he had felt earlier, that someone was watching him. He looked up and found himself staring into the dark eyes of the Ranger, who remained behind the Baron's high-backed chair, almost invisible in that strange cloak of his. Will shuddered in a sudden frisson of fear and hurried out of the room.**

"What were you even scared of?" Horace said with a grin.

"The scary Ranger in the room." Will answered.

 _A/N Sorry for not posting in ages, I found myself not being able to come up with any ideas for a few month, but now I've found a solution which should let me update more regularly. Hope you enjoyed._


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